The Worst Possible Disease
by Mitsuki Horenake
Summary: Spain has contracted one of the most uncontrollable diseases known to man and nations alike, and the only person that can help him is...America! I think. I mean, I think it's America...


**I'm so in the mood for writing more crack fics~ **_**(since apparently CanSey is a crack pairing)**_**. Odd, huh? So…without further ado…here you go. My latest crack pairing fangirl club has just added another one.**

**/=+=/**

Despite what anyone would think, Matthew actually knew the Bad Touch Trio really well. He wasn't really in speaking terms with them, but since his father was Francis he knew about them and was at least on speaking terms with them. Because of that, Francis is one of the few people who knew Matthew just by a glance.

Ironically enough, Gilbert was another one. Being the Kingdom of Prussia and later East Germany, he was rather annoying. How he ended up being the older brother of the serious and hardworking Ludwig of West Germany was basically anyone's guess. And then he learned that they were both drinkers, and everything was explained. Then again, how in the world someone like Francis created someone like Matthew was about the same problem.

And then there was Antonio, the Republic of Spain. He was in the later category of people that couldn't tell the difference between him and his brother. But seeing him and his friend Romano around, he was surprised that Spain knew anything at all. Being so chirpy, so happy, so…_**out there**_, he couldn't help but be interested in him. He had tried talking to him once or twice before, but after being called "Los Estados Unidos" too many times, he gave up and hung out with Kumajiro.

As odd as they were, he couldn't help but consider them a part of his rather small family.

So when Lovino called Matthew and stated that Antonio had a really bad fever, he couldn't help but be worried.

Of course, he _**had**_ asked himself why Romano would call him out of all people about something like this, but he really didn't care as of five minutes later he was already on a plane to Madrid. Kumajiro squirmed in his seat, forcing Matthew to hush him. It was the only way he could pass as a teddy bear and not be in a cage in the plane's luggage compartment.

**/= [Madrid] =/**

"Oi, there you are maple bastard."

Matthew was quiet as he pulled his luggage into Romano's car and they went careening down the road. He would mention how dangerous this is, but he didn't look happy and if he said something they'd probably crash into a tree or something. So he did the next big thing: hold onto the seat and squeeze his eyes shut.

_Oh god…please don't kill me…_

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"Hey! We're already here!"

Matthew opened his eyes and saw that he had indeed come into Antonio's house. He slowly opened the door and realized with deep surprise that there was no one else in the house. He turned to a rather peeved Romano with the most obvious question in the world.

"_W-why am I the only one here?"_

"Because **YOU'RE** the cause of the damn illness."

He froze. Matthew made Spain sick? Since when? He hadn't been sick in years! Did he rub something dangerous that Matthew was immune to? Was he going to die on something that he accidentally do? _**Oh good god, what if he dies RIGHT NOW…?**_

"Are you OK?"

"_Yeah…thanks, Kumahichi…"_

"…who are you?"

"_Canada dayo…"_

"_**BABY, BABY, BABY OHHHHHHHHH~ LIKE BABY, BABY, BABY NOOOOOOOO~ LIKE-"**_

O.o (?)

"_Um…Romano…about that fever…?"_

"He has freakin' **Bieber Fever**, you bastard."

Oh.

**OH!**

"I am getting fucking annoyed by him singing that godawful song, and he's _your_ singer. **YOU** stop him!"

"_B-but how?"_

"I dunno, just figure it out! Oh god, he's singing the next verse…"

Matthew took this as an opportunity to get away from the raging Romano and head to Spain's room. As he quietly opened the door, he saw with surprise _(and fear and awe and some sense of dread and whatever else you want to add to this)_ none other than the Spaniard on his bed singing so loudly that it was rather annoying. Fortunately, he had a nice voice-

Wait, what?

"Ah~! Matthew!" He jumped to his side. "I'm so glad you're here! I'm trying to remember the lyrics to this song!"

"_W-what?"_

"Come on! Join me! _**YOU KNOW YOU WANT ME…YOU KNOW YOU CAARE~!"**_

Before he knew it, he was being swung back and forth by Spain's arms and singing a song that he had to admit that he did _**not**_ like. But five minutes later he didn't really care. He was never held like this before…being swung around like a bowling ball? Yes, that happened before. But never like he was in a flamenco dance with someone else. Maybe he should've seen this coming…

"Ahahaha! You're not a smooth dancer, are you?"

"_I-I've never danced before!"_

"Well then, we should correct that!"

How in the world did we get from Bieber fever to being taught the hard way how to do the Cha-Cha and flamenco? He was being thrown so many times that he was hitting Spain's chest more times than he could count…and was he starting to like it? Oh god, please don't…

"You like Justin Bieber too, don't you? He's a Canadian singer?"

"_Um…"_ Actually, no he didn't. _"I like someone else better…another Canadian singer."_

"Oh? Who is this?"

"_Michael Buble."_ He admitted with a blush. _"Actually…I was listening to his CD on the plane ride here."_

"He sounds interesting~!"

"_Well…I'm planning on staying in Madrid for a week, so you can give it back to me then."_

"OK, thank you!"

And Matthew left a little satisfied. Romano seemed glad that the song was over and that he wouldn't have to listen to a girl anymore, but nonetheless he couldn't help but question the Canadian's strange red blush on his face.

**/=+=/**

He sort of missed the close contact between the both of them.

That whole week, he found himself listening to Spanish music and exploring the entire city. The natives were very happy and were more than willing to help the Spanish-deprived Canadian try to communicate with other people. At the end of the second day, he was able to at least say good morning, good night, and where the bathroom was.

The week ended and he had to leave. Matthew quietly knocked on Spain's door, awaiting a response that he thought would be quick _(unless he was in the tomato gardens that he kept hearing about)_. The corner of his eye noticed that the curtain had moved, and a shining green eye lit up at his presence before disappearing into the house. Another five minutes passed by and he waited patiently _(a trait that Matthew was known to have)_ before he heard a door lock click.

He was expecting Spain to open the door, the fresh scent of breakfast in the air, and for him to be invited _(against his will)_ to join them where he would eat in silence.

He was even expecting Romano to open the door and tell him to fuck off.

He was _**not**_ expecting Spain to suddenly throw the door open _(in a black matador outfit)_ and scoop up his waist until they were just five inches from each other's face.

And yet _**apparently**_ that's the one that happens…

"_AH-!"_

"Ahahaha! You're so red, Mathieu~!"

"_Wh-wha…?"_ Only Francis calls him that!

"I have to say: I like that new singer that you introduced me to."

"_U-u-u-u-u-u-u-um…t-t-t-thank…you…"_

"Ahahaha…I wonder if he's as cute as you are."

"_W-what?"_

"Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you blush?"

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"Mathieu?"

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"Oi, tomato bastard! That's already the sixteenth person you seduced! Shut the hell up already!"

**/=+=/**

**I had no time nor idea how to write a SpaCan fluff…waaaaah TAT**


End file.
